


the drug, the dark, the light, the flame

by katplanet



Series: sleep to the freezing [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Klaus-Typical Grim Conversations About Death, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26036563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katplanet/pseuds/katplanet
Summary: Klaus finishes loosening his boot and tugs a twisted up bag out of it, which he should probably be waiting to do until he and Dave are somewhere that's not the middle of camp surrounded by other marines, but, well. It's not as though anyone in their patrol has any actual secrets anymore, just plausible deniability, which, in Klaus's world, is everything short of President Johnson parachuting into the jungle and catching him with a joint in one hand and Dave's dick in the other.Even from thirty feet away, Dave can tell that Klaus's fingers are shaking.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Series: sleep to the freezing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327031
Comments: 25
Kudos: 241





	the drug, the dark, the light, the flame

**Author's Note:**

> so that second season, huh

Klaus looks better than he did yesterday, but not by much. He eats three bites of whatever's in his can of rations before passing the rest of it off to someone else, and has his left bootlaces halfway undone before he catches Dave watching.

He smiles. He always smiles, for Dave.

He finishes loosening his boot and tugs a twisted up bag out of it, which he should probably be waiting to do until he and Dave are somewhere that's not the middle of camp surrounded by other marines, but, well. It's not as though anyone in their patrol has any actual secrets anymore, just plausible deniability, which, in Klaus's world, is everything short of President Johnson parachuting into the jungle and catching him with a joint in one hand and Dave's dick in the other.

Even from thirty feet away, Dave can tell that Klaus's fingers are shaking.

Standing up takes some doing; they marched all day, the kind of frenetic walking that's always one crisis away from turning into running. But Dave manages, hoisting himself off the ground with his hands on his knees. He'd kept an eye out while they set up the tents, and there's a thicket of skinny trees nearby that might not be private, exactly, but at least makes them look like they put some effort into sneaking off together. That'll have to be good enough.

Dave makes his way across the camp, tries not to make much eye contact with anyone, but doesn't keep his head too far down, either. Klaus has never cared what the others think of him when he touches Dave, when he laughs so hard at some silly thing that he sways into the orbit of Dave's body and forgets to leave. It must be catching, because Dave has mostly stopped looking over his shoulder about it. He can't bring himself to be embarrassed, not really, not when Klaus wears all the hushed things people could ever whisper about them like medals on his chest.

Anyway, the others are good men. Smart men, the kind of men that Dave wouldn't worry about at all, if only there weren't so many of them. Doesn't hurt that Klaus has them all charmed, too.

Dave checks behind himself once to make sure Klaus is tailing him. He is.

Once Dave makes it to the trees, he lays his jacket out on the dirt and sits down in the middle of it. It's not much cleaner than the jungle floor they've all been crawling around on for months, but Klaus always puts his own jacket down when he picks the spot, like he's setting up for a picnic. Dave had teased him about it, once they'd known each other long enough for teasing, and Klaus had shrugged and said he didn't want to sit his bare ass in anything poisonous, and then. Then!

"Do you think," Klaus says, crunching over with one boot still half-unlaced, "Mick actually has a Canadian girlfriend? Because it seems too implausible to not be the truth."

"He's from Michigan," Dave says, holding his arms open for Klaus. "Anything is possible."

Klaus kneels down next to Dave, the tendons of his neck stretched sharp in the dark, and Dave kisses the sweat off his upper lip. They end up bundled together, legs tangled, Klaus already halfway into Dave's lap. Dave's muscles ache like they've had the bones tugged out from the middle of them and then shoved right back in. Klaus is slick and shivering like a leaf.

First order of business, Klaus tames his limbs enough to portion out a fingertip of dope for the middle digit of his  _ hello _ hand. He leans down and inhales once, twice, pained little rasps of air. Dave keeps one hand on the small of Klaus's back.

It won't be enough, not after the pace Klaus set for himself before his supply started running low, but it's something.

When he's done, Klaus dusts his palms off and pulls out his tin and papers. Dave has never seen someone roll a joint as seamlessly as Klaus does, which says something either about Klaus or about the people Dave hung around with in college. Maybe both. Klaus adds his twist at the end with the same wrist flourish he uses when he ties his rope knots off in a bow.

"Light me?" he asks, the corners of his mouth tugged up like he's flirting, like he still thinks he needs to work for Dave. Dave pulls his own beat-up blue lighter out of his pocket and flicks it to life, watches Klaus's face go warm as he ducks close and inhales again, slower, luxurious.

"Better?"

Klaus leans his shoulder into Dave's chest with his head tilted away, and Dave kisses up and down his neck while he exhales in the other direction. "It helps," he says, eventually, and Dave can feel his voice rumbling in his throat, tangible under his mouth.

"Helps with what?" Dave asks the warm curve of Klaus's jaw.

"Oh, you know." Klaus takes another drag and breathes out through his teeth. "I get in my head. Gotta get back out again."

Dave does know. He reaches up and plucks the joint out from between Klaus's fingertips. Before Klaus can say anything, Dave takes a long pull, holds it, the taste of stale dorm room air settling into his sinuses even after he lets his breath out again. Klaus hasn't moved his hand at all, so Dave puts what's left of the joint back where he found it.

"If you wanted some," Klaus murmurs, "you could have asked."

Dave kisses Klaus in the delicate hollow between his collarbones, and pulls away enough to look up at Klaus through his eyelashes. "Can I have some?"

Klaus smiles at him, rich and thick. He purses his lips around the joint and sucks, then cups his free hand around the back of Dave's head and leans in, in, a curl of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth before Dave gets with the program and opens for the rest of it.

Dave tries to inhale, but mostly kisses Klaus while smoke clouds out between them. It's probably just as well. Dave doesn't often indulge, and he has nothing close to Klaus's tolerance; he can already feel his thoughts lapping at the edges of a warm, soft shore. He nuzzles his way back down to Klaus's neck and gets his mouth on him again, coaxing a bruise up through his skin while Klaus hums and runs his nails through Dave's hair.

"This," Klaus says, draping an arm around Dave's shoulders, "might be the most decadent thing I've ever done."

"That's hard to believe."

"You've got a rose-colored idea of what I got up to before I met you."

"We're in the jungle, Klaus."

"It's cleaner than some of the bars I've been to. Better company, too."

Dave tilts his head back so he can watch Klaus take another hit. He has the loveliest dip under his jaw, perfect for kissing. Dave reaches up and runs a knuckle along it until he finds the faint scratch of stubble. Klaus exhales, and his throat moves against the back of Dave's hand.

"Look at you," Klaus says.

"What about me?"

"Just don't see you from this angle very often, is all." Klaus goes up an inch higher on his knees, his ribs pressed to Dave's chest.

Dave hums and fits his hands around Klaus's narrow waist. He could probably lift Klaus up and hold him, if they were standing. Especially if they had a wall to brace against. Klaus's shoulders pinned to the wall, his body in Dave's arms, his legs around Dave's hips-

"You're thinking something fun." Klaus leans down for a kiss. "Share with the class?"

"Stuff." Dave's words are meandering in his head. "Stuff I wanna do with you."

"You can't say that and leave it there, you torturer."

"You're just," Dave sighs, "so little."

Klaus laughs out loud at that, which jolts Dave back to earth a bit. "I think I should be offended."

"No, no. You're," Dave says, and tightens his hands around Klaus's waist, "and I can just," and he tugs Klaus even closer, lifts him up to sit properly across his lap.

"Oh," Klaus breathes, "got it. Yeah, hey, that's a really good point."

Klaus shuffles his hips and tucks himself into Dave’s chest, his head on Dave’s shoulder. One more hit, and he stubs out his joint in the dirt to the left of Dave’s jacket. Klaus smells like sweat and earth. Dave buries his face in the soft hair behind his ear.

“So,” Klaus says, “you were thinking about, what, moving me around?”

“I was thinking,” Dave says, “about fucking you into a wall.”

“Jesus, Dave.” Klaus pulls back and plants his palms on Dave’s chest. “You wanna?”

“What, now?”

“Baby,” Klaus says, solemn, “if there was a wall anywhere near here, I’d already have my back to it.”

"Yeah?" Dave slides his palms up up up Klaus's thighs until he has his hips in his hands again. "Add it to the leave list, then?"

Klaus nods, pulls his lip between his teeth and lets it pop back out red and wet.

"It’s getting kind of long for five days."

"If I can still walk by the end of day three I'll consider us both failures."

Dave grins up at Klaus, keeps grinning even though it makes kissing nearly impossible. Klaus rolls his hips into Dave’s, and Dave gets his arms as tight around Klaus as he can, reels him in until they’re mashed together all down their chests.

They could both get off like this, nothing but kissing and rocking into each other. They’ve done it before, more than once, and it cracked Dave’s world open every time, the feeling of Klaus’s body moving against Dave with uninhibited purpose, his breath hot on Dave’s neck. It’s strange for something so simple to feel so good, but Dave is starting to accept that things with Klaus are, more often than not, going to be strange. And good. Strange, simple, and good.

“So good,” Klaus mumbles into Dave’s mouth, which either means that Dave was thinking out loud, or that they’ve just ended up on the same wavelength again.

Dave kisses Klaus until he starts to feel less like he’s falling and more like he’s diving, targeted and sharp. He gets his hands on Klaus’s ass and grinds up into him, and Klaus pushes his forehead into Dave’s jaw and gasps.

“Gotta - slow down.” Klaus licks at Dave’s neck. “Hang on, baby.”

Klaus’s lips are pink and kiss-bitten when he pulls away, and he’s breathing hard. Dave has no idea what Klaus is seeing, looking down at him. He’s not sure he could handle his own reflection at the moment.

“Christ.” Klaus pushes his hair out of his face. “You’ve cast a fucking spell on my dick.”

Dave sputters, laughs. “Sorry, I guess?”

“Bewitched.  _ Property of Dave _ .”

“I’m not actually sorry.”

“You’d better not be.” Klaus reaches down to the side and fishes around until he finds whatever he’s looking for - it’s his tin, and his little folder of papers.

"Another?" Dave asks him. It seems - well. "You're not running out of grass?"

Klaus giggles into the back of his wrist and says, " _ Grass _ , Dave, come on." He smooths out a fresh rolling paper with his thumbs, his hips still working in circles in Dave's lap.

"You're gonna fall asleep on me," Dave says.

Klaus pauses, glances up at Dave. "Baby, it's the ‘60s, the shit you people smoke is basically lawn clippings."

"I'm not the one who loses track of the decade, darlin'."

"All I'm saying," Klaus says, "is it takes a lot higher dose of a lot heftier narcotics than this to give me whiskey dick, I promise you."

"Okay," Dave says, "but that's not actually what I'm worried about."

Klaus grins at him, shimmies his hips. "You're not tormented in your every waking moment by the siren song of my nethers?"

"I'm worried about the dope, Klaus."

And, okay, that’s one way for Dave to sober himself up.

They haven't talked about it. They've talked around it, but that's - that’s plausible deniability. They've never talked about it any of the times that Dave has pet Klaus's hair out of his sweaty forehead, or pressed his palm to Klaus's stomach through waves of dry heaving, or held Klaus close as Klaus ground his teeth into another night of half-sleep. He does those things for Klaus in the same way that Klaus kisses the thin line of Dave's lips when Dave wakes up shaking, or holds Dave's hand when every distant noise starts to sound like gunfire - silently, with an understanding not born from language. Klaus could get up and walk back to the tents without another word, and Dave would follow him, and that would be that, and the next time Klaus went sticky pale with nausea, Dave would be there to walk him to his cot, to pass him his canteen and read to him from a paperback.

Klaus stares at Dave for a long time. He doesn't look angry, but then, Dave hadn't expected anger.

Finally, Klaus says, "There was a fight here."

Dave glances over his shoulder on instinct, the sick shock of panic up his spine, but the tents are where they left them. Of course they are.

"No, not, um." Klaus runs his fingertips along Dave's jaw, and Dave looks back at him. "It was a while ago. A long while."

"Were they talking about it at dinner? I wasn't paying attention."

Klaus shakes his head, his whole body gone tense. "People died.”

“I know,” Dave says, because he doesn’t, not exactly, but he also does.

“It - I mean, I can feel it."

“I know, honey.”

"No." Klaus scrunches his brows together. "No, no, it’s not the same. I’m not making sense.”

“Sure, you are.”

“No, it’s here.” Klaus looks from Dave’s face to a point over his shoulder, then back to Dave. “Can you feel it  _ here _ ?"

Dave ... tries. Sets his jaw and focuses on the hot night, the faint distant sounds of living things. He’s seen people die, quickly and slowly. It’s hard to think of that with Klaus here in his lap, hard to imagine those things existing in the same world that would give Dave something as precious as this, but he tries.

He doesn't sense death in the air or in the earth, or wherever death lingers in a place, but he does hear it in Klaus's voice, see it in the bruised blue skin under his eyes.

"I can't," Dave tells him, "but you can, right?"

Klaus bows forward like he's in pain. "I'm sorry," he says. "I wish I could - no. No, I don't wish I could explain."

"Klaus," Dave says, as softly as he can. "You can tell me anything."

When Klaus looks back up, his eyes have gone wet, big and round and so beautiful. "I know," he says, and his voice wavers all over every vowel. "You’re wonderful."

Dave kisses him. Klaus has stopped shaking for the most part, and he fits in the circle of Dave's arms like powder in a casing. He shifts just enough to set his tin and papers aside, then melts into Dave, his hands settling on the inside of Dave's thighs.

Klaus breaks away to press his nose into Dave's cheek. "Let me suck you off, baby."

Dave pulls back, smooths his thumbs through the tear tracks under Klaus's eyes. "Why?"

Klaus huffs, turns and presses a kiss into Dave's right palm. "Because it'll make me happy."

Dave can't say his dick is high on his list of priorities, not anymore, but Klaus is warm and heavy in his lap, and now that the offer is hanging there between them, his body answers. "If you want to," he says.

"I do." Klaus sighs and leans in to kiss the very tip of Dave's nose. "God, only you. ' _ Why _ ,' Katz, really?"

"I don't want it if you're doing it for the wrong reasons."

"I don't think I could fuck you for the wrong reasons even if I wanted to."

"No?"

"I've done all that," Klaus says. "I know how that feels. That's not what I'm doing with you."

"Good."

Dave keeps his hands cradling Klaus's face. Klaus has a natural olive to his skin that the sun has baked bronze, but all the warmth that should be there, the blood hue of life, is missing. Dave wants to kiss it back, set Klaus's heart pounding, drag a flush out of the depths of him. He wants to take Klaus to bed, to  _ his _ bed, lie him down and touch him until neither of them can think.

"Hey, gorgeous," Klaus says. "Let go of my head."

"Hang on, I'm looking at you."

"You can look at me while your dick's in my mouth." Klaus is still damp around the eyes, around the hairline, but he's smiling again. "I'd recommend it, actually."

"Sure, if you want me to last about thirty seconds."

"Oh, yeah, all that time we have to  _ really _ draw things out right now, how could I forget?"

“You’re funny, Hargreeves.”

“Better shut me up, huh?”

Dave lets go of Klaus's head, and Klaus drops down into the vee of Dave's thighs, presses his cheek against Dave through the rough fabric of his fatigues. It feels good, better than blunt pressure on the other side of pants probably should. It looks good, too, when Klaus parts his lips just the slightest bit and shuts his eyes, lashes fanned out over the sharp peak of his cheekbone.

Klaus nuzzles into the crease of Dave's hip and reaches up to wrestle with his zipper. Dave goes to help, but Klaus gets it on his own, so Dave puts his hand back in Klaus's hair instead, pets at all of his soft curls.

Dave can't remember the last time either of them saw the inside of a shower, but Klaus still breathes Dave in like it'll get him high. He doesn't bother getting Dave's underwear down, just pulls him out through his fly and takes the first few inches of him straight into the back of his mouth.

"Klaus," Dave breathes. "Easy, sweetheart."

Klaus hums in the pit of his throat and dips down, down, his nose brushing the teeth of Dave's open zipper before he pulls back for air. He does it again, and again, Dave's palm still cradled around his head, moving with him wherever he decides to go. Klaus has his hands clenched around Dave's thighs, his knuckles white, but his eyes are shut as light as wings.

Dave is close before Klaus even finds a rhythm, just from the sight of him, the heat of his body between Dave's calves, the way his back arches as he picks a comfortable angle to settle into. Letting himself come would be the practical thing for Dave to do; they've already been away from camp long enough. But Klaus, Klaus rocks his own hips to the same beat that he bobs his head, makes faint, unselfconscious noises whenever he manages to take Dave deeper into his throat.

So Dave fists his hand in Klaus's hair and, as gently as he can, pulls him up and off.

"Oh," Klaus croaks, his voice already an octave lower. "Holy shit."

"Sorry, was that-"

"Perfect." Klaus pushes the crown of his head into Dave's hand and then tugs away, and Dave holds tighter, gives him some resistance to overcome. "You're so perfect."

"Wasn't gonna last." Dave rubs his thumb against Klaus's temple, and Klaus's shoulders go slack. "You like this?"

"Sometimes. Right now, yeah."

"So if I," Dave says, and he still can't always get the words out when he's with Klaus like this, but he carefully, carefully pushes Klaus's head to one side, which he thinks will get his point across.

Klaus shudders, and  _ there's _ the red in his cheeks. "Dave," he says, still rasping on his words, "baby, please."

"Please what?"

Dave means it as a genuine question, but it must come across as a tease, because Klaus grabs tighter onto Dave's thighs and licks his lip. And hell, if teasing is doing it for him, Dave can lean into it.

"Say it, honey."

"Please," Klaus says, "let me suck your cock."

And there goes all the work Dave put into pulling himself back from the edge.

Dave drags Klaus up into a kiss, which should maybe be gross given where Klaus's mouth has been, but it lets Dave feel Klaus loose-limbed and pliant in his arms, the way Klaus's whole body follows the lead of his head when Dave steers him around. Dave wonders, briefly, if the done thing would be to use his hand to steer Klaus down, too. Instead, he lets go of Klaus's hair, and Klaus slips back into Dave's lap just fine without any guidance. He gets Dave on his tongue again, and only then does Dave cup his palm under the base of Klaus's skull.

"Beautiful," he says, quiet, like someone’s going to hear him and steal the words out from between them. "So sweet for me."

Klaus presses his head down farther than Dave would ever ask him to, tenses the muscles in his throat and swallows before pulling back off to breathe. Dave has no idea how Klaus does this with so little effort; the one time he'd tried it on Klaus, he'd nearly bitten down from the shock of something touching his soft palate. It must take practice, in the same way that all the things he does with Klaus have taken practice. Dave is confident enough with his hands by now - maybe he could get there with other things, given time.

It's a nice thing to think about in the abstract, making a space for Klaus in his body that wasn't there before. It would probably be nice in reality, too. Klaus seems like he's enjoying himself.

Dave keeps his right hand on Klaus’s head and meanders his left across Klaus’s cheek. When he pushes with his fingertips, just the slightest hint of pressure, he can feel it through Klaus’s skin. Klaus moans around Dave and bears down until his forehead brushes against Dave’s stomach, and Dave touches his throat to feel the way his muscles have gone taut, the way they flex when he swallows around Dave.

“Close,” Dave says, and Klaus hums, moves his hands up from Dave’s thighs to his hips. Dave doesn’t realize  _ how _ close he is until after he’s said it. Every movement of Klaus’s mouth hits him from the pit of his belly down to his toes. His body wants to move in response, to push, and Klaus would let him, but there's a deeper satisfaction in watching Klaus take exactly what he wants, when he wants it.

Apparently what Klaus wants is for Dave to come in his mouth, which is convenient, because that's what Dave wants too.

Dave runs his fingers through Klaus's curls, smooths a thumb along the lovely line of his jaw, and lets all the sensation sink into him. Klaus, beautiful Klaus, draws it back up and out of him like a tide. Dave takes his hand away from Klaus's hair, tacit permission to pull back, but Klaus holds tighter to Dave's hips, works his lips, his tongue, and Dave shuts his eyes and spreads his legs as wide as Klaus will let him and comes, aching, to the stunning wet sound of Klaus swallowing around him.

"Oh," Dave says, "Klaus, come here-"

His thighs are still tense, toes still curled in his boots, as he drags Klaus up to straddle his lap. Klaus kisses him and Dave can't find it in himself to pretend he minds the taste. He licks at Klaus's lower lip, and Klaus whines, his hands shooting down to his fly.

"Let me," Dave says into Klaus's mouth, getting his own hands between them. "C'mere, sweetheart."

It's not the best angle, but Dave gets Klaus out of his pants and starts to work him over, and Klaus shivers and wraps both arms around Dave's neck, and kisses him, and kisses him. He's so hard in Dave's palm, slick with sweat. Klaus snaps his skinny hips forward into Dave's grip, and Dave braces his arm and lets him set the pace, reaches around with his free hand to grab Klaus's ass and urge him on.

"I want you to fuck me like this," Dave whispers into the hinge of Klaus's jaw, and he feels the words move through and out of his body, one more rush of pleasure. "Just like this."

Klaus groans and rolls his head back on his shoulders, fists his hands in Dave's shirt collar. He grits out, "Leave list," and when he looks back at Dave his eyes are sharp, focused, his mouth swollen and pink. "Anything you want, baby, it's already yours."

Dave kisses him, and Klaus finishes like that, his own hand cupped around Dave's to catch the mess. He goes to wipe his fingers clean on his pants, after, but Dave steals Klaus's hand back and tidies him up with a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Okay?" Dave asks, thumbing over the soft skin between Klaus's knuckles.

Klaus nods and presses his face into the curve of Dave's throat. "Perfect."

Dave tugs Klaus in with his arms around his waist and holds him, feels his breathing slow back down against his chest. It's hot, sticky in a particular outdoor sex way that Dave still hasn't gotten used to. The night around them has gone dense with breath and sweat. It smells like them.

Maybe this will linger here too, in the air or in the earth, after they've moved on.

"We should get back," Klaus says, about as enthusiastic as Dave feels. “Get some sleep.”

Dave doesn’t answer, just holds Klaus closer, presses his nose into the curls behind Klaus’s ear.

“Or we could lie here in the dirt with our dicks out,” Klaus says. “You make a compelling argument.”

Dave snorts and lets Klaus pull back so they can reassemble themselves. Klaus zips up and gets his tin off the ground; the paper he’d been using earlier is lost to the undergrowth, so he pulls out another one and starts the whole process over again. Dave leans back against one of the crooked skinny trees and watches Klaus's fingers, long and purposeful. Klaus uses his own lighter this time, takes a drag while Dave rubs his legs.

When the joint is half burned down, Klaus plucks it out from between his lips, looks down at Dave, and says, “I love you.”

Dave says, “Shit, really?”

Klaus blinks at him, then bursts into a cackle that has Dave laughing back before he even realizes he's doing it.

“I love you, too,” Dave tells him. “Wow. I should have led with that.”

“Why did you sound so surprised?”

“You love me. It’s surprising.”

“What, because it’s me?”

“No, because it’s  _ me _ .”

Klaus swoops in and presses his lips to the corner of Dave’s mouth. “You,” he says, “are very easy to love.”

“Lucky me.”

“If anyone here is lucky,” Klaus says, “I guarantee you it’s me.”

"Hell, Klaus, you're gonna give me an ego."

"There is no precedent in my life that says I should be here with you. It's the least likely thing that could possibly have happened to me."

"Maybe we're both lucky."

“Maybe.” Klaus gets up on his knees and rolls off to sit next to Dave on his jacket.

“Klaus,” Dave says. “I don’t, um. I don’t want you to think that - that I don’t trust you, or that I don’t think you can handle yourself.”

“I know.” Klaus turns his joint over in his hand, then brings it up to his lips and burns down a little more of it. “And I know I don’t always inspire confidence.”

“Hey, no,” Dave says, “none of that.”

“I don’t think anyone alive has watched me make as many consistently stupid decisions as you have.”

“You do what you have to do,” Dave says. “Whatever gets you to tomorrow.”

Klaus looks at Dave out of the corner of his eye. “That easy, huh?”

“I wouldn’t call it easy.”

“I wish,” Klaus says, trailing off like he’d meant to elaborate but thought better of it. He takes one last hit and puts the second joint out next to the remnants of the first. “I wish,” he says, again, “anything else was enough.”

“Something else will be enough,” Dave says. “Maybe not here, but someday.”

Klaus rubs the heels of his palms over his eyes. “We should get back.”

“Yeah,” Dave says.

He puts his hand on Klaus’s leg, and Klaus puts his hand on Dave’s hand, and eventually, they head back.


End file.
